


it's like drowning but worse

by thelocalbaker



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author needs help, Cold showers fucking suck amiright, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This While Listening to Mother Mother, I think that's the term?, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Literally just a vent fic, Other, POV Second Person, any truers in the chat, author is projecting, cold showers can be literal or an allegory, ever tried sweet hibiscus tea, i promise ill post good works soon, i'm using "you", im rlly sorry that my first fic is this, im working on it, it's 2 am wtf, like porn, pls don't read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:36:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28851441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelocalbaker/pseuds/thelocalbaker
Summary: There’s something inherently degrading about stepping into a cold shower.
Relationships: me and my brain next question
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	it's like drowning but worse

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry that my first work is a vent fic , i just need to put this out there somewhere. also i wrote this all in one sitting lol .  
> have fun reading my insomnia-induced self-harm hazed mess of a writing .

You have to speak to yourself before it happens.

It’s not going to be pretty. You know that better than anyone else, and you need to talk to yourself to even dare to get out of your clothes.

_“It’s just like entering a pool,”_ you tell your own self, _“you’ve done this many times before, you’re gonna be okay.”_

You speak soothingly to your own self.

You know nobody else is going to do it for you.

You turn your eyes into the shower. It’s never made you want to crawl out of your skin more than now. You remember showers being comforting. Warm, safe, you remember wanting to spend hours under the constant feeling of the water hitting your skin, remember passing your fingers through steam-blurred mirrors. You remember screaming, too. And you remember bruises against your skin, but it was always worth it.

Showers were one of your favourite things, one of the few that made you feel happy, safe.

It doesn’t feel like that now.

_You’re going to do it anyways._

\---

It is, unsurprisingly, the start of a dreadful experience.

You know this moment, right before the water starts heating up, where you have to deal with the unfortunate low temperature for a few seconds that feel like an eternity as you wait for the heat to start. But there’s none of that now, the heat never comes.

So you decide to wait.

It’s unbearable, the way it feels like you can’t breathe when you put your head under the cold water. The way it clings into your skin, how it doesn’t ever seem to get better. It’s painful. It’s asphyxiating.

You realize there’s something bubbling up in your throat, and it’s not puke.

_(you know how to recognize it a lot too well by now, but there’s no time to dwell on that as your hands reach to grasp onto any kind of leverage, because being under cold water feels like endless falling, never giving in, never finding ground.)_

Puke burns your throat, it’s viscous and watery, this is different. It scratches at your throat, you feel like you need to bite your lips to keep them down.

_These are words._

Somehow, you think that’s _worse_.

Your mouth falls open without you intending to, breathless and gasping. Your eyes sting with tears, you don’t want anything but to step out, to move to the side, to _escape_. But you stay rooted to the spot.

_Another minute_. You wish you were dead. _Another minute_. You think you never want to experience anything like this ever again. _Another minute_. You know that you will.

You don’t step out, because you knew this wasn’t going to be pretty. You didn’t came here expecting it to be good. You expected it to be painful, you expected to suffer.

You’re suffering. _Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?_

And yet, you find yourself reaching into the smallest of things.  
  


Because the liquid feels warm as it runs down your legs, and you don’t dare to move, to breath, to even think, afraid it’ll make the illusion break. You stay still, feeling it slide down, relishing in it as much as you’re capable.

_From every other part, the water is searing cold._

Your body’s shivering, it’s panicking, it doesn’t like this. Faintly, you hear your brain scolding you for how you’re treating your body. Your hands shake as you move them away from your chest. Everytime a part of your body leaves the constant flow of cold water, it becomes warm again.

You think it’d be easier if the cold just stayed.

You don’t even remember that much afterwards. You’re only half-paying attention when you step out and you’re enveloped in a wave of warmth again.

You think, you miss the cold.

You miss hurting. You think pain is the only thing you’re able to feel nowadays, anyways.

Yet you’re out, and you think you should be at least a little happy about that, although you don’t mind if you’re not.

In the background, your brain yells at you for how you treat your body.

You’re going to take cold showers anyways.

Your brain has never cared about how it treats you.

**Author's Note:**

> tldr; just turn the heater on and stop being dramatic.  
> "cold showers" is an allegory for abuse / sexual abuse / self-harm , any truers in the chat ?


End file.
